


The Ghost of Christmas Past

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Quantum Leap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-21
Updated: 2004-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:31:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1636589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for Fox</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Ghost of Christmas Past

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fox

 

 

"Are you done, Admiral?"

The businesslike calm of Ziggy's tone is the one thing that finally makes it through the blind fury and with a sigh I put down the glass in my hand. It was about to meet the same fate as the others and the wall at a very high speed.

"Yeah, guess so."

Deflated, I sink into a chair, my head in my hands. God, we're in some deep caca! If only Ziggy had warned me that Sam leaped into that Walters putz, had given me time to prepare. But no! Bet that glorified calculator with the oversized ego gets a kick out of scaring the bejesus out of me.

I've been skulking around my quarters since I fled from Sam like the devil was on my tail. Well, you can't blame me for being shook up. How would you feel if you walked into the Imaging Chamber and found that it had been turned into Frankie's, a bar just down the road from here? Not only is Sam sitting at the bar, leisurely sipping a beer, but, wait for it, sitting beside him, giving him googly eyes is none other than Donna Eleese.

Jesus fucking Christ! It's times like these that I really miss the booze.

Ziggy tells me that I walked in on the moment Donna and Walters met. That was two years ago. Is that what attracted her to that nozzle? Did she see a spark of Sam there?

Don't get me wrong. I don't resent her for finding distraction outside the Project. She's been waiting for Sam for more than four years now and I, more than anyone else, can understand how lonely that gets.

I pass my hand through my hair, only now noticing how badly it's shaking. "Where's Doctor Eleese?" I ask Ziggy.

"Doctor Eleese is not on Project grounds."

Perfect.

It's a real effort to haul myself out of my chair. When did I get this old? Wasn't it just yesterday that I earned my pilot call sign courtesy of shapely triplets?

My watch tells me it's eleven, but that doesn't stop me from making my way to Imaging Control. Donna's not here, which makes it the perfect moment to see how Gushie and Tina are coming along. Perhaps she's with Walters right now. Perhaps Sam leaping into him won't change a thing, just like it didn't with Beth and the shyster.

It suddenly hits me and I have to lean a hand against the wall for support. I've met Walters. It must have been around the time Sam leaped into him. What if he was Sam? The thought is too much. I can't even think it or I'll be reaching for the bottle.

Best to leave it, not think about it. Shaking it away I continue toward Imaging Control.

* * *

The whoosh of the Imaging Chamber door and I walk into Walters' living room. Sam's looking miserable and lost sitting beside the Christmas tree. Oh, did I forget to mention that? It's Christmas where Sam is. Who says God doesn't have a sense of humor? God or Time or whatever the hell is bouncing Sam around like a cosmic basketball.

"Hey, Sam," I say, putting on a happy face. Light and easy, Al. Keep it light and easy. "What's with the sour puss? Santa didn't come? Been a bad boy this year?" God knows the guy you leaped into has been.

He tries to smile, but it comes out weakly. I'm a pretty good actor, but he can sense how edgy I am. I just know he can. "I couldn't sleep."

I can imagine. Sam's never been in this position before. He's never cheated on anyone. "Where's...uh." I have to swallow down the bile before I can continue. "...your wife?"

His gaze moves to the ceiling. "Asleep." He suddenly jumps up and paces. My hand clenches around the handlink in an effort to control the urge to reach out and give his shoulder a comforting squeeze. After four years of this hell, you'd think I'd stop putting myself through the heartache, wouldn't you? After a while he stops in front of me and glares. "Al, I don't like this one bit."

"Of course you don't. You're not an adulterer." Not even when he changed his own history and brought Donna back into his life. And took me out of it. At least in one sense.

Something changes in his expression, something bright and hopeful and dangerous burning in his eyes. I recognize it all too well and it instantly sets off my alarm bells. Sam, _don't!_

"Where are you?"

Goddamn it! Looks like our boy found out how close to the Project he's leaped. Bluff your way out of it, Ally boy!

"I'm right here, Sam." I frown, feigning ignorance. "Can't you see me?"

He shakes his head impatiently. "I don't mean you, Al. I mean the other you. The one who's here. In my present. I need to see you."

He looks at me with such desperate longing in his eyes that it breaks my heart to cut him down. "Sam, you know you can't."

I half expect the puppy dog look - he knows that'll get anything done from me - but not this time. He simply nods, though I know from experience he has no intention of letting it go. His memory may be Swiss cheese, but he's known me long enough to know when to push and when to bide his time.

"Why am I here?" he asks, changing the subject.

"I told you, Sam, to prevent you... the guy you've leaped into and that woman you met yesterday from starting an affair."

"Donna?"

"Yeah, her." I watch him intently, looking for any reaction, any sign that he recognizes the name.

"You told me she's married."

The disapproval in his voice rubs me the wrong way. "So are you," I shoot right back. I relent at the puzzled frown that appears on his face. "Well, the guy you leaped into is."

"Tell me about Donna's husband."

Aw, kid, don't do this to me.

I need a moment to get my Al-your-happy-go-lucky-wisecracking-hologram-face back into place, so I turn to my usual attempt at stalling. My cigar between my lips I start hitting the handlink with short, angry jabs. Sam's impatient sigh tells me that he knows exactly what I'm doing.

"She said that it was hard being away from him on Christmas." He sounds so sad, as if her pain is his, a thought that shouldn't be so strange considering they're married. I clamp down so hard on my cigar I need to take it out of my mouth before I bite it in two.

"Yeah, you could say that," I say softly, looking him in the eye before I add, "he's M.I.A."

There it is: the expression I've been waiting for. Anger blazes in his eyes. "Is that why you're being so weird?" Toldya he knew. "Perhaps Donna and Patrick are supposed to be together. Did you think of that?" Like Beth and the ambulance chaser. He doesn't say it, but I can read it in his eyes.

"You know, perhaps they do." This surprises him. I see the questioning frown, but I ignore it. "Ziggy can't give me any odds. Where we are right now in the original history she and you..." The cigar between my fingers sweeps around in a grand gesture. "This guy you leaped into haven't ended their affair yet."

His head tilts; a dangerous glint appears in his eyes. "Which is how many years from now?"

This time I'm the one who sees right through him. "Saaaaam," I warn at his thinly veiled prying, but it breaks the tension between us and we grin at each other.

"I need to know for the leap," he says in a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth tone of voice. It clashes horribly with the mischievous grin on his lips.

"No, you don't," I state firmly. "All you need to know is that the affair's been going on long enough to suggest there'd be something permanent if they were both free."

"So why aren't they? Can't she have her husband declared dead?" Once again, I hear the words "like Beth did" and something inside me breaks. Not because of Beth - that pain is in the distant past - but the thought of doing that to Sam makes me want to toss my cookies.

"No," is the only thing I manage to squeeze past my lips, my eyes stubbornly fixed on the handlink.

"Al..." he starts, but I cut him off, glaring at him.

"No, Sam!" The resolution in my voice and eyes shuts him up. "Just stay away from..." Why am I having so much trouble saying her name? "The brownhaired temptress and this leap will be over before you know it."

There's a sceptical look in his eyes I ignore. "OK, Al."

"We'll have Ziggy run some more scenarios in the meantime." A push of buttons and the images around me swirl into nothingness. Staring at the empty walls of the Imaging Chamber I hope Sam hasn't noticed how I fled from him. Again. War hero, my ass! I'm a coward at heart.

* * *

A creepy crawly feeling wakes me in the middle of the night and it makes me jump out of bed with the urgent, irrepressible need to be in the Imaging Chamber. I'm halfway into my clothes before I realize it's a memory, one that wasn't there when I went to sleep.

"Sam, what have you done?"

Tina stirs at my quietly mumbled words, but she turns over and goes back to sleep. I carefully pull the door closed behind me; once I'm in the hallway I turn to the ceiling.

"Ziggy, are you awake?" I whisper.

Her voice sounds too loud all around me. "I don't experience sleep, Admiral."

"Shshsh! Keep it down, willya?" I tell her, waving my hand emphatically.

Now she sounds peeved. "Then why did you make contact?"

"I need you to put the Imaging Chamber online. Sam's about to do something really stupid."

Which is not the entire truth. The memory in my head tells me that the damage is already done. Damn! I should have known he'd pull this! If I could reach it, I'd kick my own ass. If I could reach his, I'd... well, hug the living daylights out of him probably.

"Shall I wake Doctor Gushman?"

"No!" I wince at my outburst, but then add, more softly, "No, don't bother, Ziggy. We can do this without Gushie." Having reached Imaging Control, I nod sternly at the Marine sentry at the door, my most solemn in-command face firmly in place. He lets me inside without questions; I'm too relieved to think about putting him on report. Inside I see that the control panels are already lit and in passing I snatch the handlink from its stand. "Stealth mode," I inform Sam's hybrid computer.

"Ah," she sighs, in that infuriatingly knowing tone of hers, "that is why you do not want me to alert Doctor Gushman."

"Just do it, Ziggy!" I snap a little more harshly than necessary. So I want to check on Sam without him knowing. It's not the first time and it won't be the last.

I step into the Imaging Chamber and Sam's car. His face is set in determination and I don't need to be told where he's going. It's all there inside my own memory. Of course I could show myself, try to talk him out of it.

The thought makes me chuckle, in spite of the situation. Who am I kidding? There's no talking Sam out of anything once it's inside that stubborn noggin of his. Ziggy is living proof of that. As is Project Quantum Leap. All I can do is follow this thing to its natural conclusion and hang on for the ride. Just like I always do.

* * *

They have a room where they meet. Standard motel room cliché. I followed Donna once. That's how I know about her and that knucklenose. It still takes me by surprise when Sam pulls into the driveway of that very same motel. I don't really know why it should. There aren't that many places around here where one can arrange a meeting like this one.

I follow him into the room he's rented and watch him pace the floor. He's nervous. He's excited too. As for me, I don't even want to think about what I'm feeling. I concentrate on watching Sam, on blowing contemplative puffs of smoke into the Imaging Chamber.

I've seen my share of sleazy motel rooms. On a scale of ten this is about a seven. It looks fairly clean, which is more than I can say for some of these dives.

An angry rap at the door interrupts my study of the room; Sam and I both jump at the sound. Sam's expression is tight as he hurries to open the door and lets in ... me.

Oh, fuck! Knowing what Sam has done is one thing. To see it play out in front of me like holographic performance art is another entirely.

"You have a fucking nerve giving me cryptic messages over the phone!" I... _he_ barks, as he stalks into the room. "What do you know? What do you wa...?" Turning around he stops in mid thought, as his mouth literally falls open. He blinks a few times, shakes his head and I sympathize. It's always like that when I look at Sam. One part of my brain sees the host he's leaped into, the other sees Sam.

All the while, Sam has been standing there at the door, gazing apprehensively at the younger me and looking scared shitless.

"Sam?" the other me utters softly, full of disbelief.

The sound of his name moves Sam into action. Without a moment's hesitation, he's at my younger self's side, has him instantly wrapped in his tight embrace. There are tears in both their eyes. There are tears in mine as I watch them. It hurts more than I can put into words. It's me and it's not me. He's the one holding a solid Sam. He's the one crying tears of joy in Sam's neck. All I have is the memory.

I have the memory. Then why does it come as a shock to find that I'm the one who initiates things? It starts with soft, gentle kisses on Sam's neck and Sam gasps, gazing at 'me' in wonder.

"Al?" he asks and looks down into eyes I suspect give away the whole story. It lasts for all of a heartbeat and then we are kissing each other like I have ached to kiss him for years. It's like we're swept up by a tidal wave. He grabs my jacket, pulls it off roughly and...

Oh, God, I shouldn't be here! There's no need for me to be here. With trembling fingers I summon up the Imaging Chamber door. The last thing I notice before I close it behind me is the slight tilt of Sam's head.

Jesus Christ, don't tell me he's known all along that I was there! It wouldn't surprise me in the least.

He doesn't look up though, just clutches the younger me even tighter in his arms.

* * *

The memories rush into my consciousness so quickly it's making me woozy and I have to lie down. Tina's dropped by, wondering if I'm OK, but I can't let her know what's going on. What is happening between Sam and me right now. Has happened two years ago. I've lived through it and yet I haven't. How's that for fucked up?

They are truly spectacular, the images that pass in front of my eyes. Very powerful. Sam's a considerate, passionate lover and he dives into it with an enthusiasm that makes me wonder if he hasn't rediscovered certain lost memories.

If you're thinking you'll get a blow by blow account - no pun intended - you can think again. Those stories are diversionary tactics for Sam's benefit. It was a very special moment and I'd like to remember it that way. Anyone looking for sordid, juicy details can just rent a gay porno like the rest of us.

* * *

It's much later when I return to the Imaging Chamber. Still at the motel, Sam's alone and sitting on the edge of the tousled bed. He tenses at my arrival and although he looks up, he can't look me in the eye. What is he afraid of? My disapproval? My anger?

"I won't apologize, Al," he says, his voice strong and determined.

"Aw, geez, kid! What makes you think I'd want you to?"

Thought that would get his attention. His head whips up; hope shines through the stunned disbelief in his eyes. "You're not mad?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Did you hold a gun to my head?" A hesitant smile breaks through as he shakes his head. There's still doubt in those hazel eyes though. Calavicci, it's time to suck it up! "It wasn't the first time, Sam," I finally admit with a sigh. The expression on his face is priceless. I relish it for a moment before I add, "Well, OK, it was in this timeline."

Comprehension dawns. "We were lovers before I leaped?" Sam asks in a tone that suggests both relief and delighted surprise.

I attempt a cocky grin. "Kick in the butt, ain't it?"

Sam's laughter as he falls sprawled onto the bed is the most beautiful sound I've heard in a long time. "I was so convinced you'd never want to talk to me again," he tells the ceiling in wonder. "I half expected Gushie to show up in your place."

"Sam..." I hesitate for a moment. Ah, what the hell! I've already let the tail out of the bag. Might as well get the rest of the kitty cat out too. The sudden seriousness in my voice must have clued him in that I'm about to reveal something big. He slowly sits up; gazes at me expectantly. With all that love shining in his eyes, I discover how damned easy it is to admit this and I smile. "Sam, you gave me the best Christmas memory since my dad picked me and Trudy up from the orphanage to go ice-skating."

The most beautiful smile appears on his face. "You were there, solid and real. I couldn't help myself," he says, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes that I knew would make an appearance sooner or later. "Do you know how I've longed to hold you?"

Oh, jeesus, he's kidding, right? I sigh. "I know, Sammy."

"Besides, you kissed me first." His expression slowly morphs into one of realization. " _You_ kissed _me_ first," he repeats, his voice full of wonder.

"You noticed that, huh?" It's suddenly impossible to look him in the eye; instead I fiddle with the handlink. When I look up again, he's standing right in front of me, close enough to touch. So to speak, that is.

He looks at me so intensely, I'm expecting some grand declaration, one that is going to break my heart. I can't handle it with him so close and yet so far away. My mouth has already opened to tell him not to get mushy, when all he says is: "Merry Christmas, Al."

Is that relief I'm feeling or disappointment? I manage a smile. "Merry Christmas, Sam."

We grin stupidly at each other, neither of us sure what to do next, when a frown suddenly crosses his face and he asks, "What about the lea...?" His question is lost in the familiar light show that tells me he's leaping. The next moment the motel room around me has vanished.

I stand there for what feels like forever, gaping at the blue walls around me. It's only when Tina rushes into the Imaging Chamber that I snap out of it.

"I'm OK, honey," I tell her, as she looks worriedly at the tears on my face. She puts her arm around me and leads me out of the Imaging Chamber, and the truth hits me. This leap wasn't for Donna or Walters or even Sam. This leap was for me.

That's one hell of a Christmas present. And it's not even Christmas where I am.

Still dazed, I gaze at the ceiling. I've stopped believing in God a long time ago, but there's one thing I need to say to whoever is running this show.

Thank you.

 

 

 


End file.
